


Proposition

by darkcyan



Category: Mouretsu Pirates | Bodacious Space Pirates
Genre: F/F, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:25:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7819648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkcyan/pseuds/darkcyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing Jenny Dolittle notices about Lynn Lambretta is that she is <i>unfairly</i> cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proposition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rubyroth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyroth/gifts).



> Oh goodness. Thank you, dear recipient, for requesting and (presumably) nominating this series - I watched it years ago, and had not realized just _how much_ I needed a rewatch.  <3 
> 
> I've also only watched the anime, so any discrepancies from additional canon details revealed in the light novels are my own, etc. etc. 
> 
> (I also may have fudged the details of when / how Jenny learns of her betrothal because I lent my DVDs to another friend before I realized it was something I ought to go back and double-check. XD) 
> 
> Anyway. Thank you again, and I hope you get as much joy out of reading this story as I did out of writing it. <3

The first thing Jenny Dolittle notices about Lynn Lambretta is that she is _unfairly_ cute.  

She’s just entered her second year of middle school.  Her father is finally making noises about placing a small subset of Hugh and Dolittle’s vast transportation empire under her direct control. (An argument that has taken her nearly a year to come even this close to winning.)

She’s vice-president of the Hakuoh Academy Middle School Yacht Club, will most likely be president next year, and neither she nor her father will accept her grades being anything short of perfect. 

The _last_ thing she should be doing, as she stands next to the club president and greets their new members, is noticing how one of said first years has carelessly short brown hair and a quick, infectious smile. 

And she most _certainly_ shouldn’t be thinking things like _Well, I’m not_ technically _first in the line of succession_ and _Adoption is_ technically _a perfectly valid means of continuing the family line_.

(That’s not just putting the cargo before the shuttle, that’s trying to load cargo onto a shuttle that hasn’t even been manufactured yet.)

 _Practically_ speaking, Jenny doesn’t have time for a silly crush on a distractingly cute fellow club-member.

So she ignores it.

* * *

The second thing Jenny notices about Lynn is that she’s intelligent.

 _Blazingly_ intelligent.

Really, it’s unfair.  Hakuoh has pretty stringent academic standards, but if Lynn had had the grace to simply be solidly mediocre, quashing this definitely-not-a-crush on her would have been child’s play. 

It’s clear that she doesn’t know a lot about yachts, or about spacecraft in general, at first – certainly not as much as Jenny, who’s eaten, slept, and breathed interstellar transportation since she was in her crib. 

But she asks perceptive, detailed questions – and never needs to ask the same thing twice. 

And in her hands, computers _sing_. 

Jenny walks in one day, a little bit late, just in time to catch the tail end of one of the other first years complaining. 

“… Even the simulators are reserved for high school use only!”

“I could change that,” Lynn replies absently.  Looks around at the suddenly quiet room.  “What?”

“… You could get us simulator time?  How?” The club president looks like she’s not sure whether to be impressed or concerned.

“Oh, getting the time isn’t at all difficult – you just need to mark the simulator room as in-use in the database,” Lynn says.  “The trick is making it look like it was done officially.  Especially since we don’t have a faculty advisor.  Spoofing _that_ would be even easier.”

The president is definitely looking concerned now.  “Isn’t that, ah.  Against the rules?” But it’s a weak protest, and from the sudden brightness in everyone’s eyes, they all know it.

Lynn grins.  (Jenny’s heart most definitely _does not_ skip a beat.)

“Only if I get caught.”

(By the time the school works its way through the nest of misdirection Lynn wove, their club has been using the simulators – only during times when the high school didn’t need them; she’s firm on that point – for long enough that it’s clear they’re doing the room no harm, and themselves a lot of good.  The administration grumbles, but eventually lets the reservation stand.)

* * *

The third thing Jenny notices about Lynn is that her brash exterior hides a kind heart – and her kind heart is tempered by convictions made of steel.

After the simulator incident, she can’t help but not-notice that Lynn gets a surprising number of visitors on days when they’re just hanging around the club room, working on their own projects. 

She’s quiet and discrete and they’re never a bother, but they do make Jenny curious. 

Then she starts hearing the rumors. 

“If you need to fake attendance –”

“If you need to know the questions on the next calculus test –”

But she also notices that while Lynn will almost always say yes to questions of attendance – “Who am I to question someone else’s need for a mental health day?” she says when someone calls her on it once – she’ll only hack the test questions for certain teachers, and when she does, the results always seem to find their way to the entire class’ inboxes.

(For the rest, she always seems to have an alternate suggestion – to ask the teacher directly, to go to a classmate who’s particularly good at the subject and open to tutoring – and she always knows who to suggest.)  

It’s clear Lynn has no particular respect for the school rules or for the letter of the law. 

But it’s equally clear that she operates by rules of her own. 

 _I can work with that_ , Jenny catches herself thinking.

And also _Stop that_ , but that part’s getting progressively more difficult.

* * *

The fourth thing –

“Is there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?” Jenny asks her father, towards the end of one of their weekly calls. He usually does a far better job of pretending he cares about her classwork, and even while discussing her proposals for the next quarter – she hadn’t quite managed to convince him to cede her _full_ control of the tiny portion of the company she was now managing, unfortunately – his attention had wandered more than usual. 

He smiles at her.  “That obvious, am I?” It slips away.  “I’ve been talking with your uncle –”

Jenny braces herself. 

“He thinks he’s found a good candidate for your betrothal.” Her father taps his screen, and a message icon pops up in the middle of hers.  She opens it and slides the resultant bio upwards and to the left, leaving the video call unobstructed. 

_Well.  At least he’s not old._

The boy in the bio is a couple of years older than her and reasonably handsome – if one liked them blond and hapless-looking and male, which Jenny … doesn’t. He looks vaguely familiar.  Perhaps she met him at a party once?

Then she starts reading, and can’t help the protest.  “Father!  A _politician_?”

Not even a politician – the son of one.  For all any of them knew, he wouldn’t even turn out that well.

It’s a criminal waste of her potential, and they both know it. 

“It’s a very advantageous match,” her father says, looking like he’s trying to convince himself as much as her.  “It could open up a lot of doors.”

It would also take her permanently out of the running for eventual president of Hugh and Dolittle. 

They both know that, too. 

“It’s not finalized yet, but he’s the most likely candidate at this point.” Her father sends her another message; a list of alternates that’s mostly populated by men three times her age or worse.  “Your uncle wants to see you happy and secure, Jenny.”

 _And out of the way_ , she thinks bitterly.  And it burns that her father is just going to … _let_ him.

“I understand, Father,” she replies, and even summons up a smile.  “He does look like the best option.”

Her father’s shoulders relax slightly.  Had he really been expecting her to throw a tantrum?  She’s known this was coming for a long time. 

She’d just been foolish enough to believe that the end result would be to her benefit as well as the company’s.

“He also expressed concern that the trading you’ve been doing recently might distract you from your schoolwork. I’ve explained to him that there’s no risk of that –” her father smiles at her proudly, “— but perhaps we should slow the pace a bit?  You do have your end-of-semester tests coming up soon, after all.”

Jenny could already see the line of excuses that would doubtless populate the coming years.  But there’s nothing she can do about that right now, so she swallows her rage and smiles.  “Of course, Father.”

(She’ll pick this argument back up after finals – she has no intention of being dismissed _that_ easily – but it’s quite clear that she’ll need backup plans, too.)

(The fourth thing she realizes is that she’s looking forward to it.)

* * *

What could be a better backup plan than starting her own company, Jenny thinks as she sits in the club room and studies transport routes and supply and demand and looks for holes.  For opportunities. 

It will be difficult, she knows.  Who’d want to sign on to a company whose CEO and sole employee is a teenage girl?  (Aside from a few contacts she’s made in the past several months.  She might be able to convince them to switch, if her plan is good enough.)

But she’ll make it work somehow. 

The door to the club room slides open.  Jenny looks up and sees Lynn, alone for the moment.  The other girl flashes a quick smile and nod in her direction, then settles into a couch on the other side of the room. 

Jenny has a thought.  Has several, in fact, about spoofing and backup plans and a girl who’s better than she’ll probably ever be with computers. 

She stands and walks over and clears a throat that has suddenly gone dry.  “Would you be available later this afternoon to discuss a business proposition?”

About blond politicians’ sons and freedom.  And _opportunities._

“Over coffee?”

Lynn's eyebrows raise briefly. Her eyes narrow, and Jenny thinks she'd probably feel exposed under her scrutiny if every nerve wasn't already screaming.

Then Lynn smiles. "I know just the place."

(The fifth thing Jenny notices is that Lynn's smile is even more mesmerizing up close.)

* * *

Lynn takes Jenny to a small shop with an old-fashioned lamp affixed to the wall beside the door.  She holds it open, motioning for Jenny to enter first.

“Irasshaimase~,” three girls in maid outfits carol as they walk in. The girl in the lead – petite, with black hair in pig-tails and a cute flower-shaped barrette on the right side – smiles at Lynn. "A table for two today? Right this way."

 _Is that her type?_ Jenny catches herself thinking, and for a moment feels awkwardly too tall, too blonde, too everything.

 _Stop it. You’re here to offer her a job, not a date. Unless she wants a date. Hopefully she wants a date_. _But_ the point is, _that’s_ not _the point_.

“The coffee is good here, but the desserts are even better,” Lynn says.  And, “One strawberry parfait,” she tells their server without even looking at the menu. 

The pictures in the menu do look appetizing.  “A chocolate parfait for me, please,” Jenny says. 

Their server leaves, and Lynn leans forward, planting her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands.  Jenny resists the urge to mirror her and narrow their distance further.  “So?” Lynn says.  “You said you had a business proposition?”

Jenny opens up her notebook and starts laying out the plans – what she has of them – for her new company.  She’s identified a couple of potentially lucrative niche markets; if she succeeds, they should give her a good base for further expansion. 

Lynn listens closely, nods occasionally, and asks enough questions that it’s clear she’s either genuinely interested or impressively good at faking it.  Their parfaits arrive just as Jenny wraps up her explanation, and the next few minutes are spent in silent appreciation of desserts just as good as Lynn had promised. 

“That’s … you’re looking for a long-term commitment?” Lynn finally asks.

“If you’re not interested in that, there are a few specific things I’d like to contract you to do,” Jenny says. 

“Setting up the fake president?” Lynn says.  From her tone, it’s more a statement than a question.  

Jenny nods.  “But if you are interested, I’m prepared to offer you full partnership.”

“Profit-sharing?”

“50 percent,” Jenny says. 

Lynn whistles.  “You don’t mess around.  Hey, do you want your wafer straw?” She barely waits for Jenny’s permission before plucking it from the swiftly-melting remains of her parfait, and Jenny completely fails to pay attention to anything else as Lynn crunches her way through it.

She sits back then, a serious look on her face, and Jenny drags her attention away from the handful of crumbs at the corner of her mouth.  “I don’t do corporate espionage.”

Jenny considers a couple of responses.  (She definitely _doesn’t_ think about leaning across the table and brushing the crumbs away.) She takes a calculated risk.  “… Unless it’s fun?”

Lynn throws her head back and laughs.  “You got me there,” she admits, unrepentant.  “I make no guarantees, though.”

“That’s fine,” Jenny says.  “I expect any security work to be mostly defensive – I’d like to run as clean a shop as I can, especially in the beginning.”  She pulls up a file – translucent, so Lynn can see as well.  “Do you want me to add ‘right of first refusal’ to the contract?”

“Please.” Lynn looks impressed.  “You had that ready?  What if I’d said I wasn’t interested?”

Jenny flicks another file upwards; flips it to face Lynn for more convenient reading.  “I hoped you’d at least be amenable to the short-term contract.”

Lynn shakes her head, smiling wryly.  “I should have known.  You’re running for club president next year, right?”

Jenny blinks.  “Yes, I’m planning to.”

“Good, it would be a shame to waste all this –” Lynn gestures at the holographic materials Jenny has strewn across the air above their table “— on just the real world.”

Jenny can feel her cheeks warming and pointedly ignores them.  “So, you’re in?”

Lynn props her chin on her hands again, a mischievous smile playing across her lips.  “I don’t know.  It sounds like a lot of work, and if it crashes and burns, I won’t have anything to show for it …”

Their waitress – her nametag says Kaede – brings the check by; Jenny smiles at her and takes it, paying the entire amount with a tap of her card. 

She then looks back at Lynn, patiently waiting, and takes another calculated risk. “Another parfait?”

The smile stretches into a full grin.  “Oh, I think there’ll be more than just one.  I’m not _that_ good.”

Jenny can feel her smile starting to widen, too. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Lynn reaches a hand across the table.  “Then you have yourself a deal.”

(The sixth thing Jenny notices: she doesn’t want to let go.)

* * *

It’s been a little over a month of meeting two, three times a week at the Lamp House.  A month of Lynn stealing the crunchy bits of Jenny’s parfaits, that escalates to both of them stealing spoonfuls, and then to an unspoken understanding that on the days they buy (well, Jenny buys) food, it’s shared property. A month of laughter and hard work and slow, steady progress.

Fairy Jane, with Lynn’s carefully constructed president at its head, is starting to look like more than just paper and dreams. 

(Lynn had protested the name – she thought it sounded silly – but Jenny was still president, and it was still her company. Lynn had retaliated by giving their fake president embarrassingly retro-looking horn-rimmed glasses and a habit of frowning disapprovingly over them.)

They’re discussing potential suppliers; the handful Jenny has a personal relationship with from Hugh and Dolittle won’t be sufficient once she starts expanding, nor is feeling them out a short or uncomplicated process.  Lynn has a few ideas – one or two of which might even work; she’s new to the business side of things, but soaking that up just as quickly and thoroughly as she does everything else. 

During a brief lull in conversation, Jenny hears one of the waitresses say, “Kaede, let some of the rest of us serve Lynn and her girlfriend occasionally, too.”

Her voice is not nearly as quiet as she probably thinks it is.

“Yeah, they’re so cute together!”

Jenny can feel herself flushing.  She looks towards Lynn, and finds her looking back, smiling wryly. 

“It’s not my fault you’re all too slow,” Kaede says cheerfully.

She comes by their table a few minutes later to refill their coffee.  Jenny waits until she’s done to clear her throat and say, only a little bit pointedly, “My name is Jenny.”

“… You heard that, huh?” Kaede asks.  “Sorry, I’ll ask the other girls to gossip more quietly next time.” She glances between the two of them, probably wanting to ask – but when neither Jenny nor Lynn adds anything further, she smiles, says “Let me know if you need anything else,” and leaves them alone again.

Jenny turns her full attention back to Lynn, though she waits to speak until Kaede is (probably) out of earshot.  “Do you bring your girlfriends here often?” she asks lightly. 

Lynn hesitates – though Jenny thinks only someone who knew her well would have noticed – and then says, “Just the one.”  Her direct gaze answers any questions her words might have left open; the hand she lays on the table is a clear invitation. 

“Good,” Jenny says. 

(This time, she _doesn’t_ let go.)

* * *

The afternoon’s work complete, they walk towards the nearest transit stop, hand in hand.  And then the next.  Then the next. 

They talk a little bit about the work that’s yet to come; the conversation is punctuated by long silences where they simply enjoy the cool of the evening and the newfound warmth in their hands. 

Sometime after the fourth or fifth transit stop – honestly, Jenny’s stopped counting – they pass a small park.  Lynn glances over, grins, and lightly tugs her hand.  Jenny doesn't even try to resist the urge to follow.

They leave the path almost immediately; it’s a small park, but there’s a corner dense enough with trees that they’re soon out of sight.

It feels like they are the only two people in the world.  Lynn is looking around at the leaf-heavy branches curving gently above them; Jenny can’t keep her eyes off her. 

She glances back towards Jenny; their eyes meet with sudden intensity.

Jenny licks her suddenly-dry lips and drifts closer; Lynn’s hand leaves hers as her arms slide around her waist.  Jenny rests hers loosely along Lynn’s back, as Lynn closes that final gap –

 And misses, catching only the corner of Jenny’s mouth.  Her skin tingles as she feels more than hears Lynn’s quiet laugh; and as Jenny shifts to make her own attempt –

Lynn’s lips are soft and a little bit dry and taste faintly of the coffee she drank earlier.  (A small spoonful of sugar and enough milk to turn it paler than her hair.) Every nerve is alive and breathing is an inconvenience and if Jenny could stay here forever she would, she _would_ –

But she can’t. 

Shaken, Jenny pulls away.  Completely, because she knows that if she keeps touching Lynn, she won’t be able to stop.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –”

When this was just a one-sided crush, she could justify indulging in it.  Revel as she asserted freedom from the bonds of obedience that had always been mostly self-imposed.  But now that she knows Lynn likes her back –

Lynn shakes her head.  “No, I’m sorry – I was coming on too hard, wasn’t I?  I’m … not good at slowing down.” She grimaces wryly, an expression familiar from hours spent at their favorite table in the Lamp House, and one that still has the power to take Jenny’s breath away because it is just so _Lynn_. 

“Not that I mind!  Going slowly, that is,” Lynn adds hastily.  “Whatever pace you want is fine with me, I just –”

“It’s not that,” Jenny interrupts.  Smiles weakly.  “I’m not all that great at slowing down either.  But.  Before we go any farther – I mean, really, before I even let it get this far I should have – I need to tell you something.”

Lynn closes the distance; takes Jenny’s hands.  “I’m listening.”

Jenny takes a deep breath.  She talks about Hugh and Dolittle, and her place in the company.  About betrothals and blond politician’s sons. 

Lynn starts to frown as Jenny’s explanation continues, but she doesn’t let go.  

“That sucks,” she finally offers, when Jenny has run out of words.  “You have to marry him even though you don’t know him?  What if you hate him?”

“It’s possible to break a betrothal,” Jenny says.  “But ‘I don’t want to’ is not a good enough reason. Not unless I’m willing to throw away everything.”

Just being with Lynn makes her dizzy; makes her think that giving everything up might not be so bad.  But the reason she started Fairy Jane to begin with was because she loves this – because she’s _good_ at it, and she’ll only get better, and maybe, if she _proves_ it … 

She doesn’t want to give up Hugh and Dolittle.  She wants to make it her own.

And if Lynn were to stand in the way of that … much as her stomach twists at the very idea, Jenny honestly isn’t sure which would win. 

Jenny becomes aware that she’d tightened her grip as she spoke and makes a half-hearted attempt to pull her hands away. 

Lynn’s grip tightens in response.  And whatever her inner thoughts, her gaze is clear. “That’s years away, though, isn’t it?” she asks.  “Who knows, maybe by then we won’t even be together anymore.”

Jenny swallows her immediate urge to protest.  Lynn was right, after all – how many middle school romances became something permanent?

“And even assuming we are – since I have no intention of letting you go, just so you know –” Lynn shrugs.  “We’ll work something out.  Maybe I can be your kept woman?  That could be fun.”

Jenny sputters, startled into laughter.  “ _Kept woman_?”

“Your mistress?  Your paramour? ‘The other woman’?” Lynn’s grin keeps growing. “Though I’m not sure that last one would be accurate, strictly speaking.”

“What sort of ridiculous literature –”

“I can’t spend _all_ my time hacking,” she says. Her grip tightens, and the grin drops away. “Thank you.  It means a lot, that you told me.  But … I don’t want to lose what we _could_ have, just because I’m worried about some nebulous future.”

Jenny allows herself a moment of bone-deep relief, and considers sagging into Lynn’s arms. She settles for saying, “Neither do I.”

“Then that’s settled.” Lynn hesitates visibly.  “… Can I kiss you again?”

“ _Yes_.”

* * *

They stumble out of the park a bit more disheveled and a lot more flushed than when they entered; Jenny suspects her head won’t stop buzzing for days.  At the nearest transit stop they both request rides.  Lynn’s arrives first, but she lingers for one last quick kiss.  “I’ll see you tomorrow in the club room?”

“I’ll be there,” Jenny says. 

(She doesn’t know what the future will hold.  But she believes Lynn will be there to see it with her.)

(She’s looking forward to it.)  

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. ALL THE HIGH-PITCHED SCREECHING ABOUT HOW JENNY/LYNN IS THE CUTEST THING. 
> 
> *ahem* Sorry about that, I'm fine now. :D


End file.
